


Steve Rogers is mad as f-

by wickedsingularity



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Gen, Hurt, Language, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:05:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7612048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedsingularity/pseuds/wickedsingularity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Prompt:</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Steve Rogers is mad as fuck at you and he raises his voice for the first time during an argument. What did you do and what is he saying?</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Why did you do it?" Steve asked. His voice was perfectly calm, but I could still hear the edge in it, see the tension in his body.

"It was the right thing to do," I replied, shrugging, trying to act like what I had done didn't affect me.

"No, it wasn't." His jaw muscles were working.

"It was the _only_ thing to do!" I took a few steps forward, hoping – and failing – to intimidate the man.

"No, it wasn't," Steve repeated.

"You weren't there," I mumbled, turning around and began shuffling the printout of the mission report. The report Steve had read, causing him to come barging into my office, slamming the papers down onto my desk and yell in my face. I don't know why I did it, the report was to be shredded anyway, but I wasn't thinking straight.

"And why wasn't I there? Because you didn't wait for me and took lead of the mission yourself! And now an agent is dead!" With every word, Steve's volume increased, the last word shouted right behind me. I felt the spit on my cheek and the rush of wind in my ear.

I dropped the papers onto the desk and spun around to push him away. "You were b-" I began, but he grabbed my hands and held tightly.

"An agent is _dead_! Do you understand?!"

"YES! I fucking understand! Alright, Steve? I fucking get it!" I wrenched my hands out of his grasp, and pushed as hard as I could before he could lay another hand on me. "But there was nothing else I could do! Yes! An agent is dead, but –" He advanced on me, but I held up my hand and glared with all the venom I could muster. " _But!_ But fourteen innocent lives were saved and the terrorist cell is down!"

"We do not sacrifice our agents to take down our enemy! He was a good agent! There is _always_ a way to save lives!"

"What the hell, Steve!" I gaped at him. "Get your head out of the fucking clouds – and don't you dare with the _language_ comment! We can't save everyone! You were in the war – you know how it goes!"

"If we are to sacrifice anyone, we sacrifice ourselves!"

"You weren't there! He _did_ offer himself! I _did_ look for another way out! _There was no other way!_ "

"Then you should have sacrificed yourself!"

There was a ringing silence. The resentment in his eyes, the anger on his face, the rigidity of his body.

That comment.

It cut through me like a knife, and for the first time since I took the decision that cost the life of one of our agents, I felt tears sting in my eyes.

"Good to know where you stand, Rogers," I said calmly, biting down on the sobs that threatened to break through. Then I walked towards the door, bumping my shoulder forcibly into him on the way. Reaching for the door handle, I stopped and spoke with my back to him, my eyes clenched shut. "You think I don't feel sick thinking about it? You don't think I see his lifeless face every time I close my eyes? You don't think I relive it every time I sleep? Next time, let the hunt for Bucky wait and lead the mission yourself. And then I'll make sure I make the right decision." I turned to look at him over my shoulder. "Then you watch me sacrifice myself so I can make you proud."

I wrenched open the door so hard it swung into the glass wall with a sharp clang.

All the agents in the cubicles were watching me as I strode away, holding my head high and locking my jaw so tightly I wasn't sure it would ever unclench, not wanting to show weakness in front of them. I knew they had all heard the shouting. As an Avenger it had been highly unprofessional. But it had been even more unprofessional of Steve to take this fight in my office instead of at home.

The moment the elevator doors locked behind me, I spoke. "FRIDAY, take away Captain Rogers access to his apartment. I'm sleeping alone tonight."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt:_   
>  _Steve Rogers is mad as fuck at you and he raises his voice for the first time during an argument. What did you do and what is he saying?_

It was the funeral. The funeral of the agent whose death I was responsible for. Everyone who could get away was there, the entire Avengers team, most from the office and most of the other agents.

His family. His friends.

They stood at the front, near the flag covered coffin. I wanted to say hello to them, to apologise for not being able to save their son, brother, father. Apologise for not having sacrificed myself instead.

But I couldn't. I just stood at the back of the crowd, hiding myself under my black umbrella. Very fitting that it would rain. I felt I belonged outside the marquee, in the rain.

The minister requested Steve to approach the front. As the head of the Avengers Initiative, he was to hold a speech. I couldn't catch a word of anything he said, but I stared at him, right under the brim of the umbrella. He looked appropriately sad, but keeping the strong façade.

I hadn't talked to Steve since our fight. I hadn't even been in the same room as him. FRIDAY had helped me avoid him. I knew it was cowardly and downright childish of me, but I couldn't face him. The disappointment in his eyes, as both my partner and as my superior, was too painful. I had needed his support after the mission and then for him to say _that_ to me... On top of my own guilt and self-punishment, it was too much.

Steve finished his speech, and a couple of other people stood up to speak. I didn't know them. They looked like his family. I hated myself for not knowing them. For not asking him about his wife and children. About his life outside work.

After the last person stepped down, dabbing a handkerchief to their eyes, the flag was folded up and given to the wife. The coffin was lowered into the ground, followed by loud sobs from the front row. The minister cast a few handfuls of dirt onto it and said a few words. Then people began filing out, popping umbrellas and shielding themselves from the all too fitting weather.

Natasha spotted me where I stood several graves away. She moved to come over, but the glare I sent her made her move on with the crowd instead, ushering the rest of the team with her. She also distracted Steve, for which I was very thankful.

The family stayed behind, while the chairs were cleared away and the marquee disassembled. I looked at nothing but the carefully folded red, white and blue flag in the wife's hands.

I needed to apologise. To beg for their forgiveness. Tell them how sorry I was for not being enough. For throwing away his life like that. But my feet refused to move.

I don't know for how long I stood there, in the rain. The umbrella did nothing to keep my feet dry. But a long while after the cemetery was deserted, I managed to stumble forwards, towards the rose covered mound of earth. Tears stung my eyes, making my vision blurry, unable to read the writing on the white cross at the head of the mound.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice raspy from having not spoken all day. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

The tears fell from my eyes, and I fell to my knees in the wet grass, the umbrella falling from my hands. I couldn't tell tears from rain. How I wished I could trade places with him. At least then I'd be free of the nightmares. His ghostly and ghastly apparition that haunted me every night. The guilt would never leave me.

A strong hand was laid on my shoulder. I jumped and hiccoughed, seeing Steve kneeling down beside me, a large umbrella above us. There was a frown on his face, but through my blurry vision I saw nothing of the disappointment that was there the last time I looked into his eyes. He moved so he could pull me against his body. I vaguely noticed he was still in the black suit.

"Have you been here the whole time?"

I nodded against the smooth material.

"Nat said I should check on you, and when FRIDAY said you weren't anywhere on the compound, Nat suggested I try here. Darling, you're soaking wet."

His warm hands took a gentle hold of my arms and pulled me up, then wrapped his arms around me, the umbrella still shielding us from most of the downpour. I buried my face against his chest, almost pushing to hide inside the dress jacket. Warmth spread through me at being near him. How did he do that?

"Listen, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said the things I said. I didn't mean them. I was just..." He sighed and the sweetness of his breath comforted me. "I don't know what I was. But I still shouldn't have said it. I've been in your position; I know why you did what you did. And I know what it does to you, and you have no idea how sorry I am for not being there for you."

Steve's voice was low as he spoke near my ear. It vibrated through his chest, and I couldn't fathom how good it felt to hear him say those words. But I was in the wrong too.

I cleared my throat, biting down on the tears, seeing nothing but the black fabric of his vest. "I'm going to leave the Avengers."

"What?" Steve snapped, and the sound stung in my ears. He pushed me away from him to look into my eyes. I frowned at the loss of warmth.

"Take a desk job. Maria always need more hands to help around the office. I'm unfit to be an Avenger and an agent."

"Where is this coming from?"

I couldn't look at him, so I stared at the knot of the tie. "I let an agent die on my watch. I'm unfit for duty. I can serve you better from a desk."

"We have lost agents before! Just because you had a bad experience on a mission doesn't mean you're unfit for duty. In case you have forgotten – because I sure haven't – I was unable to save Bucky from falling from that train. I let him fall to a certain death, only to learn that I inadvertently helped make him the Winter Soldier. I didn't hang up my shield because of that. Bucky wouldn't have wanted that. I don't want that for you."

"You crashed the Valkyrie into the goddamn ocean. You gave up. You didn't _have_ to do that. You could have done things differently. Lived. Married Peggy."

"And it turned out okay after all, but I learned from my mistake, and I don't want you to make the same mistake."

"Who's to say it won't turn out okay for me too?"

Steve grabbed my chin and forced my eyes to meet his. The sadness in them was almost too much to bare. "Please, don't do this. Please don't. You are an amazing agent and an even more amazing Avenger, and it isn't a team without you."

"I'm not backing away from this, Steve. I know it's cowardly, but I have to do it. Maybe not forever, but at least for now."


End file.
